


Illusions and Delusions

by MaxRev



Series: Tumblr image prompt [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Image Prompt, Light Angst, November Image Prompt, Tumblr Prompt, strange happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxRev/pseuds/MaxRev
Summary: Another mission for the Brotherhood done, onto a mission for the Minutemen.  It's never ending for General and Knight Margo Dalca and her stalwart companion Paladin Danse.  Preston hears about a possible settlement opportunity at the lighthouse and Margo is less than overjoyed after just having returned to Sanctuary.  However, duty calls. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity (read excuse) to go see the Witchcraft Museum nearby. She always wanted to go before the bombs fell but never made it. She won't be deterred this time. Recipe: Start with a boiling kettle full of obligation, add in a pinch of adventure and a dash of history.  Mix together well.  Let simmer....Hope like hell the taste doesn't kill you ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likegoodangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likegoodangels/gifts).



> So this story just kind of kept going and wouldn't stop, much like the Energizer Bunny :) It's my entry for the November image prompt on tumblr for @likegoodangels :) 
> 
> I did a lot of research about Salem, the Puritans, the Native Americans, the Witch trials...etc. Hope I did it justice and any questions/concerns, please let me know! 
> 
> I feel this might have made a better Halloween posting but...time got away from me!

“General! Good to see you again!”

Margo and Danse had just crossed the bridge into Sanctuary and were headed to her house for some brief R and R when Preston spotted them and walked over. He was always happy to see Margo when she stopped in.

“Hey, Preston. How’re things here?”

“Going well. We have a few more settlers and I was thinking maybe we could get some stores going, start a marketplace near the entrance. If that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds like a brilliant idea! Glad to hear things are going so well.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Preston turned towards Danse, “Paladin. Thanks for bringing the General back safely.”

“Rest assured, Garvey. I will always bring her back in one piece.”

“Let’s head into the house. I’m starved and something besides Pork ‘n’ Beans or Cram would be perfect. Do we have any ice cold beer on hand?”

Nodding in affirmation, Preston took off towards the creek. Margo and Danse climbed out of their power armor, leaving it under the carport. Heading inside, Margo was grateful there were no reminders from the drinking game that had turned into strip poker that had—

She stopped that thought before it could go any further.

Thankfully, Danse had no memory of falling asleep on top of her, though he did remember the kisses they had almost shared. The start of their last mission just a mere day after that fiasco had consisted of him conspicuously avoiding her eyes and only talking about mission related things…or the Brotherhood. Now, everything was back to normal…or mostly. At least it wasn’t as awkward as those first days.

She dropped down on her faded and often patched couch, resting her head on the back. It had been a deep red once with soft, velvety fabric purchased just a handful of days before the war, a matching chair and ottoman part of the set. Those still sat over by the window frame in the corner of the room. They had all seen better days but Margo refused to get rid of them. She and Nate had paid good money and she was determined to get her money’s worth, regardless of the bombs. It wasn’t like she could take them back for a refund.

Propping her feet on the scarred but intact coffee table, its polish long since worn away, she waited for Codsworth to reprimand her for soiling the furniture with her sweaty Brotherhood uniform and mud-caked boots. Cracking open an eyes, she saw that he was too busy fixing dinner. It felt so good to take a break and not have to sit on hard ground or concrete. The couch molded itself around her body, cushioning her.

“Mum, Paladin Danse! It’s so good to see you back again! I trust your travels had excellent results?”

“It’s good to be home, Codsworth. Everything went as planned.”

Danse nodded at her words, “Affirmative.”

“Mum, I believe it would not be remiss to clean up before dinner. And your boots belong on the floor. You’re getting dirt all over the table! Oh dear, it will take me days to scrub that out of the grooves.”

Pulled her legs back, she set her boots on the floor. She knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed. Refusing to give up her comfort for the moment, Margo questioned Preston, who had accompanied them inside. “Any important news to report, Preston?”

“Well, there’s a lighthouse up north. I heard that the Children of Atom occupy it at the moment, but I don’t have the resources to verify that. I think that we should check it out either way. A settlement that far north would be beneficial to the Minutemen.”

Margo groaned, opening her eyes and rolling her head along the couch in his direction. “Really, Preston? I just got back!”

Before he could even open his mouth, another voice spoke up, “As a General to the Minutemen, it’s your duty to scout out new locations and make them safe. If Elder Maxson--”

“Spare me the lecture, Danse. I really don’t want to know what Maxson would do. Besides, I was just hoping for a little break before heading back to the Prydwen.” She missed his frown at her purposely forgetting Maxson’s title.

“General, I didn’t mean for you to leave right away! I know you’re tired and need a rest. Tomorrow is soon enough to head out.”

Margo bit her tongue before she offered up a sarcastic remark, being a General and a Knight was tiresome in the extreme.

Grudgingly picking herself up off the couch, she headed down the hallway. Calling back over her shoulder, “I’m going to take a long, hot shower, drink a cold beer, have a decent meal for a change and get a good night’s sleep. Danse, I would suggest you do the same before we head out tomorrow.”  
Early the next morning, Margo and Danse stood at the bridge into Sanctuary, ready for another long trek. The sky was a cerulean blue, pink tinged clouds floating here and there in the sky, slowly turning white as the sun rose higher. They were hoping to make it to the lighthouse by noon if at all possible. Margo figured it was about a five hour walk, give or take running into any super mutants, raiders or what passed for wildlife nowadays. She was really hoping that at the latest, they would make it by early afternoon.

“I don’t understand why this takes precedence over checking in and reporting. This is not beneficial to the Brotherhood.”

She opened her mouth and shut it again as he continued, “Yes, I realize you’re also the General of the Minutemen but we were on Brotherhood business to begin with, the report of which should be turned in before rushing off to secure settlements for the Minutemen.”

“It’s because I’m the General of the Minutemen that we’re even doing this. Remember, I’m not just a Knight for the Brotherhood. This is what I do, Danse, traveling from settlement to settlement, making sure those that call it home are safe, see what the they need and keep an eye on things. Sometimes, I scout out new locations for potential settlements. Since we don’t have anything that far north, it’s a great opportunity. Besides, in addition to scouting the location, it’s another opportunity to provide crops for all those hungry Brotherhood troops.”

“Well, that is a valid reason.”

“Of course, it also gives me the perfect opportunity to go to Salem and visit the Witchcraft Museum. It’s not too much farther past the lighthouse. Granted, it’s probably barely standing now but since we’ll be so close to it, I want to see it. I never got that chance before the bombs. It was on my ‘to do’ list.”

Danse should have know there was more to it. Wasn’t there always? “Knight, this is not the time to amuse yourself at the Brotherhood’s or even the Minutemen’s expense! A museum? About witchcraft? Ridiculous! Such a thing doesn’t even exist. It’s a myth and absurd as well.”

Ever the pragmatist, Danse was just no fun sometimes. “I take it you’ve never found anything in all those pre-war books you’ve picked up about the history of Salem or the witch trials that happened there?”

“I think I would have remembered if I had. Not that I would have read it or believed it. Even the idea of witchcraft is ludicrous.”

“Really? I never believed in deathclaws or two headed brahmin or….all the strange things I’m seeing now. Just because we don’t believe something doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“I’ll concede that. However, what you see around here now was caused by man’s inability to compromise, irresponsibility in controlling technology and the result of radiation.” He looked down at her, “You know as well as I do that there is nothing magical about what happened.”

Well, he had a point there. Still. “Have you ever encountered anything you couldn’t explain or rationalize away? Couldn’t find any plausible explanation for?”

“Not that I recall.”

“What about UFOs or aliens? Life forms not of this world?”

“Aliens? Don't make me laugh!”

“Well, okay then, guess it’s time for a history lesson -- sprinkled with a few rumors.”

Margo warmed up to her subject as they walked. There was plenty of time as they headed towards the lighthouse. Danse insisted they not use a vertibird since this wasn’t Brotherhood business. She had tried arguing with him but he refused to give in. She finally relented, just so she wouldn’t have to hear him complain all the way there.

“At the center of 17th century life was church, at least in New England. It was an essential part of the Puritan’s way of life and their idea of church was...fanatical, at least the way I see it. It was against the law if you chose not to attend church, a church that was segregated by sex. Their way of life was very reserved and harsh, no room for flexibility. Everyone was expected to work hard and never express undue emotion, never speak up or speak out against something they felt was wrong. Individual differences were frowned upon. Disaster usually landed at the feet of those who were different socially, in appearance or different in any way, really.”

She paused for breath, expecting questions but for once, he was silent so she continued.

“They also believed that the devil was the cause of everything from ruined crops to smallpox, the ongoing wars with Native American tribes and just about anything dreadful that happened really. God and the devil were very real to the Puritans. If bad things were happening to someone, then they presumed that it was God’s will.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. If anything, it’s man’s own foolishness that causes unpleasant situations, including the one we experience today.”

“Look Danse, I’m not excusing the way they lived or how they thought. In many ways, we might think it primitive. They didn’t understand that sometimes bad things just happen. In many cases, just being different was an accusation that one was in league with the devil. Anyone who acted different, speaking out about what they thought was unfair or believing in something or someone other than what the Puritan beliefs encompassed, was thought to be in league with Satan. He was very real to them.”

“That way of life just sounds flawed.” He paused for a moment and Margo gave him time to gather his thoughts. “I am curious...what is smallpox?”

“It’s a terrible disease caused by a virus that shows up as little red bumps that show up over the face and on the body as well as an extremely high fever. It was highly contagious and more often than not, it caused death. The people native to this world had no defense against a white man’s disease and in many cases, it wiped out entire populations. It was a very serious illness.”

Margo was all too happy to share her knowledge with Danse who she knew was just like a sponge when it came to prewar information. Since they had several hours ahead of them, there was plenty of time to talk about this subject.

They traveled for a while in silence as Danse turned her words over in his mind, thinking about another world, another time that seemed so backwards and yet there were many even today that thought that way; at least as far as thinking their way of life was right as opposed to anyone else’s. He, of course, failed to see the irony of that observation.

“So how did these witch trials come about?”

“Life back then was much different, even comparing it to now. Although, comparing it to the issue with everyone thinking their husband, wife, brother, trader could possibly be a synth, I guess it could be viewed as similar in some ways. During that time, the world around them was rife with fear...fear of the devil. Native American worshiped the devil, women were weak and therefore it would be harder for them to resist his influence. The threat of war with the Indians loomed over them; husbands dying, leaving their wives and children with no way to care for themselves, tempers were volatile and that meant a sign of the devil….a power keg basically.”

“Sounds like an unfavorable way to live.”

“As is so often the case, there was also the position amongst many that those who didn’t fit in, someone who was of a lower class or a different race or even one who might be mentally impaired was in league with the devil.”

“But that’s preposterous!”

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she gently reminded him, “You mean like me befriending a synth or a ghoul, even a super mutant, when they’re something the Brotherhood calls abominations?”

He opened his mouth and abruptly closed it again. “Go on,” he stated grumpily.

“There was a slave, Tituba, who actually came forward and claimed she was a witch; that she was working with Satan. That was when the trials in Salem started.”

“But why would she admit to that, knowing what it would cost her?”

Pondering that very question, she thought about her answer. “I think she did it because she was a slave. Very simply, she had no one to turn to, nowhere to go and she wasn’t white. She also had her own beliefs she had grown up with. Her owner beat her when instead, he should have been defending her, and so she confessed, trying to save her own life. What other choice did she have in that time period? She came from a place that was so different from that of the people she worked for and lived amongst. She probably grew up learning voodoo or something like that, which was as commonplace to her as the Puritan’s own religion was to them.”

Margo was trying to think of something to compare it to for him when it struck her to use this time and place.

“As a perspective, think of the Children of Atom’s beliefs and how important those are to them, or how the Brotherhood’s beliefs are to you and the rest of your brothers and sisters. Things have a way of getting twisted when those who don’t believe the same as another perceive those beliefs as wrong, then go on to believe that those very beliefs must be punished, and all by those same people who twisted them to begin with.”

“Sounds like an awful time in history.”

“It was. I’m sure it was frightening for those who were accused. Even for those who weren’t, they probably thought about every single action they made and what consequence it might have -- even simple, everyday actions. For those who were of a lower social class or different mentally or physically, they probably lived in terror. There is one thing I have learned by observing history throughout the ages.”

“What would that be?”

“We never learn from our mistakes. Every leader thinks they are doing things for the good of the people but the people are always the ones who suffer.”

It was quiet for a long while after that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As they traveled further north, Margo started to notice something odd. It was subtle at first and she thought she was imagining things. The trees had leaves, well kind of. At first, it was just a sprinkling here and there amongst the limbs but the further they went, the more leaves she saw covering the barren limbs of the trees. It was just so odd, not having seen that anywhere else in the Commonwealth. Danse was so busy being alert to enemies, he didn’t seem to notice. She kept the observation to herself, a little piece of home in her crazy, mixed up world. Or maybe because she was a little bit of crazy in this mixed up world. No need to advertise, she was sure most people she knew were well acquainted with that fact.

The leaves were painted in autumn’s rich colors of burnt orange, russet, vivid pumpkin and every so often, she caught a glimpse of a deep golden yellow. The hues reminded her of fall in this area, always so rich and vibrant, a time for sweaters and scarves, hot chocolate and apple cider. Against the backdrop of the deep cobalt sky and fluffy cotton clouds, they stood out sharply. Made her wonder how Danse, ever the vigilant soldier, failed to see them.

He called a halt just short of Kingsport, the lighthouse just a shape in the distance. It provided a much needed break in case of resistance once they got here. Lunch was canned Cram and warm purified water. Having encountered a group of ferals, a few mongrels and some super mutants along the way, their arrival had been pushed back more than they wanted. So, they sat facing the ocean, watching and listening to the distant waves. It felt peaceful and relaxing sitting side by side companionably.

However, that peacefulness came to an end as they neared the lighthouse. Preston’s intel had been correct, the Children of Atom were indeed there. They took exception to the presence of Margo and Danse and proceeded to show them just how much. Ready to do battle since the religious group had initiated the fight, Margo wasted no time in firing back and with Danse as her back up, they took the members out quickly. She was grateful at having packed that extra Rad-X. They had needed quite a bit to get through the fight; every single follower had been using a gamma gun, armed with radiation. Margo hated those things.

“I think we should bivouac here for the night, scout the surrounding area in the morning when we’re rested, before we return to the Prydwen.”

“Sounds good. Except one thing….we aren’t returning until I go see the museum. I’m so close now! I refuse to miss it again. I don’t care if it’s falling apart and the tour guides are all gone. I’m at least going to visit and pick through the ruins, imagine what might have been.”

He frowned, opened his mouth to list all the reasons for not straying from their course, then closed his mouth again. Might as well let her do this before the long trek back, it would make for an easier return…and a much happier traveling companion.

“Let’s set up camp in the old caretaker’s house then and eat. I’ll take first watch when we’re finished.”

Margo tried to stifle a huge yawn. This had been one extremely long day. As soon as they were done eating and her head hit the sleeping bag, she was out, having a deep, dreamless sleep.

Danse watched her as she slept, alternately scanning the area every so often for enemies. She had become an ideal soldier in their time together. Well, not quite ideal. There were areas she needed to work on. Like the tendency to go and do her own thing, like the museum, and many times she was annoyed with his orders and questioned him or outright refused to follow them. All in all though, she was doing remarkably well for someone who had woken up over 200 years beyond her time.

He wasn’t sure when he had started to have feelings for her, something beyond just being her sponsor. Feelings he knew he could never act on. There were so many things he admired about her. She never hesitated to help anyone, though he wasn’t so sure helping ghouls, synths or mutants was commendable. In addition, she was always willing to learn something new, considered it a challenge.

He thought of the night back in Sanctuary, the kissed that didn’t quite happen. He never thought he would be thankful towards any of her friends, but he was grateful for Deacon’s interruption. Wasn’t he? Of course he was! He was her commanding officer and he had no right to feel for her the way he was. That bordered on insubordination. Not that the Brotherhood frowned on the act itself. They preferred to recruit from within rather than from Wastelanders. He shook those thoughts from his head.

Then there was the fact that she was a wealth of information regarding prewar artifacts and history. He was always fascinated by how life was before. Today, he had received an education about the world before the bombs, even before Margo’s time, though he still scoffed at the very idea of witchcraft. Had those people, the Puritans, truly considered that it was real?

Personally, he believed what he could see with his own eyes and for most circumstances, there was a rational explanation. She had told him once about Mama Murphy and her gift of the “Sight.” He presumed it was just Jet induced babble.

Turning his eyes back to her, he observed her deep, even breathing. She was soundly asleep. Good, she needed the rest. Without even realizing what he was doing, his eyes wandered over her curves, so well-defined in the tight dark blue jeans and fitted black tank top she often wore. Drifted over the purplish hue of hair, what she called amethyst, that fell down her back in soft waves when she let it down, the tips grazing the curve of her bottom. Right now, it was tied up loosely behind her head, tendrils of hair escaping the bobby pins.

He shifted his legs to find a more comfortable position, his uniform having become uncomfortably tight. Standing up, he walked quietly outside, letting the cool breeze from the ocean cool his heated body as much as possible through his flight suit. Danse berated himself for what he was feeling. This was all wrong. She was his sister, a part of the Brotherhood. He was her sponsor; she was under his command and care. This couldn’t continue; feeling such as this had no place in their world.

Besides, he couldn’t imagine his feelings would be reciprocated; she was still mourning her dead husband after all. She didn’t talk about him much. Beyond what she had told him one night as they had sheltered from a storm, she kept her feelings, her pain, and most everything to do with her former life to herself. Occasionally, like today, she imparted stories from before the bombs, but it was a random occurrence.

A slight, gentle hand on his arm caused him to start in surprise. It wasn’t easy to sneak up on him. “Easy, Paladin. It’s just me. I woke up and couldn’t find you. Everything okay?”

Pushing down his wayward thoughts, he answered in what he hoped was a convincing tone of voice, “Yes, soldier. Everything’s fine. Just enjoying the cool night air.” Thankfully, his voice did sound composed, not giving away the rapid beating of his heart and the heated blood pounding through his body.

She glided past to stand in front of him, looking up at the night sky. “So many stars. They glitter like diamonds in the night sky and I simply never get tired of watching them. I’ve tried wishing on shooting stars, but my wishes never come true.”

“What did you wish for?”

Turning her head to look back up at him, she smiled, “Well, you’re not supposed to tell or it won’t come true. Though, in this case, it didn’t come true so I suppose there’s no harm. It won’t ever come true, really.”

There was a long pause and just when he had begun to think she wasn’t going to tell him, she continued. Her voice was so soft, he had to strain to hear her.

“I wished to go back in time, back to my life before.”

Danse felt a sadness for her, but also for himself. For her, that she had been ripped away from all she had known, waking up from a nightmare that had turned out to be a cruel reality only to find herself living an actual nightmare day after day, in a world she didn’t recognize. Sad for himself, because if it had come true, he would never have met her. She was changing him and while there were times the things she did drove him to distraction, most of the time he secretly delighted in all the disruption.

As they stood there, silently observing the sky, they both saw a star shoot across the inky blackness.

“Quick, Danse! Make a wish!” Her laughter was like music to him.

Turning around quickly, she lost her balance and Danse reached out, taking hold of her arms to steady her. He misjudged her momentum and she ended up landing against him from chest to thighs. He looked down as she looked up, their eyes meeting in the darkness, her lips parted on a silent “oh.” She was so incredibly beautiful, so whole, in this land of nothing but waste.

Her voice a sweet, husky sound, she asked him, “What did you wish for?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I? Well, I hope it was a good one.”

“It was.”

Setting her back on her feet was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but decorum prohibited what was happening between them.

“I’ll go bed down while you take the next watch. Wake me at first light.”

How he was going to be able to sleep now, he had no idea, but he had to try. Turning around, he headed for his sleeping bag, leaving her there behind him, staring at him as he walked away.

Margo continued to watch him as he went back inside to settle in for the rest of the night. How could he just walk away like that and just...close his eyes and go to sleep? Sighing, she realized she needed to get her feelings for him under better control. Maybe a walk around the house once or twice...hell, maybe jogging around it in circles until the sun rose would help her stop thinking about him.

Contemplating on how she could take her mind off of Danse, the sudden memory of his body lying on top of hers, even as he had snored in her ear, jumped to the forefront of her mind. The feel of his strong body, the heat and weight of him on top of her was imprinted in her mind and refused to leave. There were times she wished his memory recalled more than just the kisses that had “almost happened.”

She decided to climb up to the top of the lighthouse, counting steps as she went. Maybe that would keep her busy. Yet when she made it to the top and looked out around her she didn’t see the night sky, the bright twinkling stars or hear the waves lapping on shore. All she saw could see in front of her was a playback of that night, how close their faces had been, ready to kiss, when they played spin the bottle.

Realizing this wasn’t helping at all, she counted again as she retraced her steps going down and slowly strolled back towards the house. Danse was sleeping but it was a restless sleep. The thought crossed her mind about waking him, but he needed rest, even if it was fitful. Besides, she didn’t care to have his fist in her face like the last time. It had taken weeks for them to get beyond that point, he was so embarrassed and apologetic.

Sitting down in a chair, facing the open window frames, Margo waited impatiently for morning. Time seemed to stretch into forever, but finally, she saw the barest hint of light on the horizon. It was going to be a foggy and overcast day. Not the type of day for traveling but she didn’t care. She was going to see that museum no matter what.

It wasn’t as far to the museum as Margo had thought and she was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still intact...at least on the outside. All around it, structures were falling apart, crumbling into ruins like that which littered the areas further south and west. Broken windows, collapsed floors, caved in roofs along with giant holes in the walls; the result of that being piles of rubble everywhere….rubble that had once been a part of those same structures, keeping the inhabitants safe from the weather and sadly, as the world started to unravel, from each other.

Standing before the building, Margo craned her neck up. The museum was tall and imposing, the atmosphere surrounding it eerie, tendrils of fog floating back and forth before it like ghostly fingers. Constructed of faded red brick with gothic iron framed windows and crenelated turrets built onto the front of the building, it resembled a small castle. The creep feeling was enhanced by boards crisscrossed over a door--to keep something in?--and a fire barrel on the front stoop, burning brightly with no evidence of who had left it.

Skeletal trees, devoid of any life, limbs reaching for the sky like bony fingers, flanked the building like long dead soldiers while crows perched on the branches, cawing loudly. Their beady eyes and long wicked beaks were like sinisters threats not to enter….or to do so at your own peril. A chill chased down her spine and an image blossomed in her mind of a bony finger traveling down her spine, attached to the spectre of a long dead witch. Shaking these gruesome thoughts from her head, she wondered what might be inside. It must be extraordinary seeing as the front door was chained from the _inside._ Of course, all of this could be a ruse designed to keep everyone out.

Walking around the side of the building, she entered through a break in the partially collapsed and broken white picket fence, noticing a body lying awkwardly in the grass. From the uniform, she guessed it was probably a dead gunner. Approaching cautiously just the same, she saw that the body was intact -- until she saw the head. She had seen a lot of death, a lot of carnage and gross stuff since leaving the vault but this had her gag reflex kicking in big time. Where the head had been was just a piece of gnawed on bone, patches of flesh hanging off of it, one eye staring, the other had popped like a bubble. Just barely overcoming her repugnance, she searched the pockets for anything useful.

“Gruesome, absolutely gruesome.” 

Margo couldn’t agree more. Thankfully, Danse stood guard beside her, gun at the ready and ever watchful.

“Something did considerable damage to that gunner, so make it quick. We don’t want to be caught unaware.”

As if she needed encouragement to hurry. If they could get inside that building, they would have shelter not just from the elements, but whatever had used the gunner’s body as a chew toy.

Lifting a key up in triumph almost immediately, she walked over and unlocked the doors so they could get in. Opening them up, she observed a dark gaping hole that looked like they might be descending into the pits of hell -- without the hellfire and brimstone. Seemed a long way down into the darkness and she had a fleeting thought -- _maybe this was a bad idea_.

An urgent whisper close to her ear, almost had her jumping down in there. “Let’s go, soldier!”

Sighing, willing her heart back down out of her throat and into her chest, she turned to glare at him, only he wasn’t even looking at her. Turning on the light on her Pipboy, she descended down into the basement.

Through the halo of light thrown in front by her Pipboy, Margo was sadly disappointed at what she saw. There was nothing but crates, empty shelves and mannequins. Granted, it was the basement, so threw off her despair and brightened at the thought of what might be upstairs. She could hear Danse on the stairs, coming to a stop just behind her.

“I’ve fought in several harsh environments, but darkness has always been one of the toughest.”

“I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“Remain vigilant. This building may appear to be just as abandoned as most, but we should not drop our guard.”

Maybe it was the museum itself and the dark part of history it had held, maybe it was the darkness and complete silence, maybe it was just her but Margo felt the idea of coming here was turning out to be a helluva lot creepier than she had anticipated.

The walked further into the bowels of the basement and Danse kept up commenting on things as they went. Margo was beginning to think he was just as creeped out as she was. What an interesting observation.

As she slowly walked deeper inside the building, she heard a low growl, cutting Danse off from boasting about his skills.

“This place would elicit fear in most individuals. Fortunately, my training prevents….wait...what was that?”

Something heavy stomped across the floor above them. Dust and debris raining down from the floors above onto their heads. Margo fought to keep from sneezing. Just as she thought she was safe, she felt it come back. Turning her face into Danse’s chest, she sneezed to muffle the sound. Maybe not her best idea ever, as she looked up to apologize and saw his brows angled down in one of those severe frowns almost always present on his face.

“Those footfalls are too heavy to be human. Be ready for anything.”

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I thought we would be safer in here away from whatever attacked that Gunner outside. How did it get in?”

“Doesn’t matter now. We’re in a position to take down this monster before it makes its way to the Commonwealth and kills everything in sight. Let’s do this.”

Swallowing a sigh at his words, knowing he never backed down from anything, she kept moving forward into the dark interior her Pipboy still casting a meager light into the shadows. A pool table sat in one of the room, recreation in slower times maybe. A skeleton sat in a school desk, facing the corner of a wall. She decided she didn’t even want to know how that came about.

Climbing over a pile of debris left by a falling wall, she heard something fall from above. Looking up, she almost screamed, unprepared for the sight that met her eyes. Bloody bits and pieces of a body were falling down into the basement in front of her. She heard crunching, growling and a body was dragged past a hole in the floor. Oh, something was up there all right. That would explain the chain barring the front door….it was meant to keep the monster inside.

A tune played through her mind from another time, one of her personal favorites -- _Hotel California_ by the Eagles.

 _Last thing I remember, I was_  
_Running for the door_  
_I had to find the passage back to the place I was before_  
_'Relax' said the nightman_  
_'We are programmed to receive_  
_You can check out any time you like_  
_But you can never leave!_

She didn’t need to wonder anymore how they had all felt in that place. Would she and Danse make it out alive?

Closing her eyes, trying to find someplace deep inside herself that wasn’t terrified to her core, Margo came up with nothing. She didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t care if she missed out on a piece of history, didn’t care if it really only was her imagination running away with her, and if this really did involve witchcraft or magic, well that was a done deal. She was going to nope right on out of here.

Turning around, she ran smack into something solid. It took her several minutes to calm down enough to realize it was Danse. His strong, muscular arms came around to steady her and suddenly, instead of feeling frightened, she felt safe. With him here beside here, anything was possible. She could do this.

She took a big, deep breath, squared her shoulders and turned around again. There was a set of stairs leading to the next floor. Question was, did it lead to the monster? Hopefully, if it did, she wouldn’t come face to face with it right as she turned a corner.

Cautiously, she went up the stairs, back to the wall, gun held at the ready, pausing at each step to listen for more sounds. Nothing. When she finally cleared the level of the floor, she peaked up and over, her eyes scanning the area. Just another room, a small one with a door. It must lead to the main room then. Climbing the rest of the way up, she carefully put her weight down, ball to heal, gently, trying not to make a sound. There was not even a creak. Amazing that these floors could still hold the weight of whatever was out there. There was not even a squeak as she and Danse walked over them. With the monster alone, those footfalls had been heavy enough to rattle the building.

Danse was right behind her as she made her way over to the door, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “Stay close and proceed carefully.” A shiver traveled down her spine but she didn’t know if it was because of his closeness or what awaited them beyond that door.

As quietly as she could, she opened the door inching it open ever so carefully so as not to make a sound. All for not, as it squeaked on its hinges. Thankfully, it wasn’t an ear-piercing sound. Hopefully, the monster may not even have heard it. Mentally crossing her fingers, she edged silently out into the hall, glancing only briefly at a body wedged in the corner and tiptoeing quietly past a hole in the floor, craning her neck to look around the wall and a bookcase.

Nothing was there. At this point, she didn’t even hear anything. There were only mannequins arranged in a circle in the corner along with piles of dirt and debris scattered throughout. Venturing out further into the room, she heard….nothing. Just absolute silence.

“Head’s up, Knight. I think it’s gone stealth.”

Or they just got lucky and maybe magically...in a puff of smoke….it was gone. She remembered Nate’s favorite saying _‘Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which one fills up first.’_ It didn’t take long to figure that out. In any case, maybe it left the building. She was barely able to suppress a laugh at her choice of words that brought another saying to mind that had survived centuries…. _Elvis has left the building_. If only it was Elvis. Well, that would probably just be lost on anyone alive today.

Reining in her wayward thoughts, she kept crept further into the large room, followed closely by Danse. They both tensed at the same time, hearing the unmistakable sound of footfalls coming from a room they couldn’t see.

Margo stood her ground, just like Danse had taught her...never mind that her legs were shaking, heart beating out a feverish rhythm like a Celtic band, mouth as dry as burnt toast. When the beast rounded the corner and swung its giant, one-horned head at them, forked tongue slithering out and testing the air. It growled loudly and she had the feeling that she was going to need a clean set of underwear...maybe even a whole new wardrobe.

“Look alive! We’ve got company!”

“Really?” No shit. Maybe she should break out the set of silver and the good china.

This was the largest deathclaw she had ever seen. Well, so far anyway. The claws were long and wickedly sharp, like gutting knives. It reared up, throwing its arms to the side. A thunderous roar erupted from from the depths of its belly like hell had been unleashed, reverberating through the air and shaking the rafters. The deathclaw must have been at least fourteen feet tall rearing up on hugely muscular hind legs, a beast born of fury, full of malice. Upper body falling forward again, it charged, heading straight for Margo.

She took aim, finger pressing the trigger but before her gun discharge, Danse fired his laser rifle and the beast turned, heading towards him. NO! She couldn’t let anything happen to him. Her own fear forgotten in the face of losing him, she fired repeatedly, trying to draw the deadly monster’s attention towards her instead. If she kept it engaged and stayed out of its way, Danse could hit it repeatedly with his laser and kill it.

Trying desperately to be heard over the beast’s bellows of rage and the twangs of Danse’s laser rifle, Margo screamed so loud, her voice cracked. “Hey, you ugly brute! Over here!”

The gigantic head, bloody saliva dripping from teeth four inches long and deadly, turned towards her. Beady, reptilian eyes laser focused on her position. Pivoting, it headed her way. Firing over and over, she backed up into the hallway, the door to the room they had walked out of to her left. The deathclaw was too big to follow her in there. She could stay out of the way and when it refocused on Danse, she would get its attention again.

“Dammit, Margo, be careful! I won’t lose another member of my team!”

“Awww, Danse, I didn’t know you cared!”

Ducking into the room, she was followed by the angry roar of the deathclaw, its cloying breath almost making her pass out. Realizing it couldn’t get at her, it turned and started stalking Danse again. She noticed a missile launcher lying on the floor outside the room, next to that dead gunner. How did she miss that the first time? It didn’t matter, she needed it now.

Running back out of the room and struggling to pick it up, she manhandled it onto her shoulder, grateful that there was a missile already loaded. Taking careful aim, she yelled out “Incoming!” and fired.

Danse ducked just in time as those wickedly sharp claws sliced the air right where he had been standing. He ran towards her, yelling as the missile found its mark. “Get back in that room soldier! I need more firepower!”

As the fight continued and they hammered at the deathclaw with laser rifle and missile, it became crazed, lashing out unceasingly, trying to annihilate those who sought to destroy it. Margo was tired, no longer fleet of foot and she tripped over the body in the hall, attempting to duck and dodge one last time. Her last memory was the deathclaw's arm coming down towards her, wicked claws ready to tear her to shreds.

 


	3. Chapter 3

She didn’t know how long she was out. When she opened her eyes, a hazy blanket of fog had drifted in through every available crevasse, enveloping everything in the building including her. It hadn’t been there before the fight and now she was finding visibility was barely past her arms. Pushing up on her elbows, she looked around hoping to see maybe a man-shaped shadow but it was impossible, so she listened intently instead. She couldn’t hear any movement, absolutely no sound penetrated the eerie fog. Danse must have gotten in a last shot though, reducing the fourteen foot scaly mass to a tiny pile of red hot glowing ash, which still smoldered right next to her. But where was he?

“Danse?” Her throat was dry and her skull was vibrating with pain and her hair was falling in her eyes. She lifted a hand to her head. It wasn’t her hair. Pulling her hand back to look, she realized there was blood on it. Was it hers or the deathclaw’s? Shakily, she got to her feet, bracing an arm on the wall for support until she felt a little more secure on her legs. Danse still hadn’t answered her.

Turning on her Pipboy, she shined the light all around her, trying to see through the thick fog. The light was almost too bright for that, like using high beams on a car. Putting one foot in front of the other slowly, carefully, using the wall for balance at times, she walked all around the room looking for him. No Danse. Where the hell was he? She walked back towards where they had seen the deathclaw come from. He wasn’t there either.

Not wanting to tackle the stairs but knowing it was imperative she check the whole building, Margo searched for Danse but to no avail. He simply wasn’t here. Her holotags still bounced against her chest, so she knew he couldn’t have thought she was dead. He would have checked first and then taken them with him if she had been. Knowing him, he would’ve have transported her body as well, if he was able. So, just where the hell had he gone?

Having slowly made her way back upstairs, pausing many times when her head swam, her vision blurred or if she felt nauseous, she made her way towards the heavy wooden front door, the one that had been chained. What she saw made her pause….the chains were gone and it was open. It must have been Danse and that meant he was probably hurt as well. Maybe he was delirious. She had to get to him!

The blanket of white lay over everything outside the museum as well, yet heavier, like pea soup. It swallowed all but what was in front of her face and what she could make out was only the bare outlines of shapes, dark against light. Her Pipboy light wouldn’t do any good, so she turned it off. Walking uneasily into the fog, she shivered as the damp closed around her, rubbing up against her skin like a cat. This fog was unnatural and nothing felt right anymore. Was she even in Salem anymore?

A faint smell of smoke drifted by and she vaguely remembered seeing man and a young girl out by a lean-to shelter. Maybe Danse had gone there looking for help. She hesitated. It was probably better to stay here in case he came back. No, she had to go find him just in case he was hurt.

The sounds of the crows in the fog as they cawed above her was loud and she remembered a show she had watched with her mom when she was ten. It was called The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock and had scared her for years afterwards. An shiver made its way down her back. What a frightening thought. This place and this fog seemed to amplify emotions, especially fear.

One step at a time, walking from shape to shape until she could make them out, Margo headed for the lean-to. It was farther than she thought but maybe that was just because of the fog, making it harder to find and the journey agonizingly slow. The man was still there, the girl asleep on her sleeping bag.

“Excuse me.”

“Huh?” He whipped around, his gun pointed at her, finger on the trigger ready to shoot.

“I was hoping you had seen my friend. We went to take shelter in the museum and...we ran into this huge deathclaw. I...I was hit and passed out. When I woke up he was gone and this fog. I...I can’t find him!” Margo was getting frantic.

“This fog rolls in every now and again. Creeps me the hell out. Decided I’m taking my daughter and headin’ south. Ain’t seen your friend but I thought I heard some footsteps and crashing through the bush over yonder, headed up that hill. Tell you what tho’, you go following them, you be careful.”

Margo almost fell to her knees in relief. That had to have been Danse. Turning and going around the lean-to, she slowly made her way in what she thought might have been the right direction, hoping she wouldn’t get turned around and end up in the sea and drown...or be eaten by only God knew what might be living in it. The ground beneath her started to gently slope upwards. Good, that meant she was headed in the right way. At least, she hoped this led her towards Danse.

As she hiked up the hill, tired muscles screaming in protest, her head pounding like a bass drum, she occasionally tripped over tree roots jutting out like fingers of the dead rising up through the ground. Sometimes it was a rock that seemed to magically appear right where she was stepping. She wondered why Danse headed this way, why he left the museum at all. If it was really even him. Maybe it was just another deathclaw. She shuddered at that thought.

She thought about another story surrounding Salem, of Gallow’s Hill and all the strange things people had mentioned happening here over the years, long after the witch trials were over. The sudden appearance of this unnatural fog, the leaves on the trees like it was autumn, the strange feelings that came over her since arriving, all of them seemed like they were fashioned from spells and voodoo. As she had ventured ever farther, she had begun to notice the absence of sound, was that witchcraft as well? Nothing penetrated this thick blanket of white.

Continuing even farther, she noticed the slope of the ground tapering off and the fog started to thin, shapes becoming a little bit clearer. As she paused, she looked back, that fog was just as thick as what she had walked through and yet in front of her, it was not. What was going on? There was no breeze up here that she could feel, just a cloying stickiness that pervaded everything around her as well her hair, her clothes. It was creepy.

“Danse, are you up here?”

She didn’t want to yell, as that might alert predators or enemies but she had to try. Pausing to listen, a distant sound up ahead traveled to her ears. It sounded like a grunt. Was it close? Fog distorted sound so she couldn’t be sure. The only way to find out was to keep going. That sound really could have come from anywhere.

“Is that you, Danse?”

“Margo?” A weak but familiar voice called back to her.

Chiding herself for her runaway imagination, she knew that voice anywhere. Didn’t matter if it was distorted by the fog or not. She ran, bursting into a clearing, the fog disappearing like a puff of smoke as she entered it. The trees were thick here, like nothing she had seen since exiting the vault. The colors of an autumn that, up until now, had only been alive in her mind.

Momentarily struck by the beauty, she forgot what she was her for and instead, stared in wonder. The trees were heavy with leaves, colors of burgundy, pumpkin orange and russet tones making them vivid…like the blood she had spilled. A frown crossed her features. Where had that thought come from?

Shrugging it off, she observed a well-worn path through the trees, a carpet of soft pine needles blanketing the earth. It was darkened by the overhanging branches so she turned on her Pipboy. She hoped he was somewhere down that way. Sparing no more thought for the bizarre circumstances she found herself in, she made her as quick as possible down the path, calling for Danse as she went.

“Danse! Can you hear me? Keep talking! I’ll follow your voice.”

“Margo, I’m…..here. I...I tried to find that...man and…..his daughter….to get some…..help but I got lost. I don’t even…...know…..where I am!”

“It’s okay, Danse. I’m coming. Are you hurt?”

He sounded like he was wounded and then yet he had still walked all this way? How much blood had he lost? She had one stimpak and some purified water but everything else was back at the museum.

“I..didn’t know it...at the time. I think that…..deathclaw caught me…..with one of its…..claws. I...bled...some. I don’t think...it’s too bad though.”

From the way he sounded, he might be worse off than he thought. But then Danse would say he was fine if his gut was split open just to continue taking out enemies.

After walking down the forest path that seemed to go on forever, Margo finally found Danse illuminated by her Pipboy. He lay just slightly off the path, legs stretched out before him.

His back was propped against a large rock but he had started to lean to the side. One hand just barely supported him from falling all the way over, the other was held to his side, blood trickling slowly through his fingers, soaking into the ground and staining it a deep red. Despite her years as a nurse, it still took all she had not to gag at the sight of it.

She had found out about that lovely little quirk in nursing school. After her mom had scrimped and saved to help her pay her tuition to become a nurse. She could hear her fellow student nurse’s comments run through her head from back then... _Why become a nurse if you can’t stand the sight of blood...did you hear that she fainted when Dr. Campbell made her work the ER?_

Their laughter and taunts, the whispers behind her back had only strengthened her resolve to shove that fault deep down in the deepest depths of her mind to get through nursing school. How was she to know when she chose her life career that the sight of blood made her feel faint and nauseous? The most blood she had ever seen was during her period or maybe from a small cut. You’d think being in the Brotherhood would have cured her of that problem once and for all. It hadn’t.

Relying on years of training, Margo kneeled in front of Danse, carefully laying him prone on the ground. She moved his hand away, grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifted it carefully. She heard him hiss in pain. Pausing her movement, she reached up and tenderly smoothed away the sweat soaked hair that had fallen forward over his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Danse. I have to check and see how bad it is. I’ll try to be as careful as I can.”

“I’ve had worse. Just do what you need to, soldier.”

She tried to smile but it felt like more like a grimace. Never having seen Danse injured this badly, she was at a loss as to how to comfort him. Focusing back on her task, she once again lifted his shirt to assess his injury. What she saw made her gasp...and almost faint anyway.

A long, jagged gash started from the middle of his chest and crossed down over his ribs to the top of his fatigues at the hip. It was an ugly, gaping wound, even worse than the one on Maxson’s face. This was going to take more than a stimpak but it was all she had, that and some purified water to clean it. It was time to put her nursing skills to work.

“I’m going to have to stitch this up, Danse. A stimpak won’t be enough and I can’t use it until after I’m done.”

Damn it! Why didn’t he stay at the museum! Feeling immediately guilty after her flash of anger, she knew he was only putting her first as always. Trying to save another soldier under his command.

Grabbing the purified water out of her backpack, she opened it up, tilting the canister so the water could flow over his wound, cleaning out any dirt. She swallowed back the bile that rose up in the back of her throat at the blood running down his side with the water.

His tightly closed lips couldn’t stop the escape of another hiss as the liquid cleansed his wound. Pain was clearly etched on his face but she couldn’t let that distract her from what she needed to do. The sooner she finished, the better it would be...for both of them. The next part wasn’t so fun.

Having been a nurse before the war, she had put together a simple first aid kit. It included a lighter for sterilizing, a pair of scissors, thread and a needle. She passed the flame over this scissors before cleaning up the edges of the wound. It would help keep the chance of infection down if she could close the wound for a clean suture.

Once she was satisfied all was ready, she grabbed the needle and thread. She ran the lighter over the needle as well before she started to sew. Looking back at him, she noticed those deep pools of brown, watching her every move. They were filled with pain but trust as well. Her heart soared to know that he felt that way.

“Ready? This is going to hurt like a bitch, but it can’t be helped.”

“Language, soldier.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t believe that even now, he was so adherent to the code he lived by. Then again, it might shock her if he wasn’t.

Carefully bringing the top edges of the wound together, she inserted the needle into the skin on one side and threaded it through, out on the other side, then started again. It was a long wound, taking a while to sew up. Her fingers trembled, cramping up and she had to stop several times, flexing them into a fist and stretching them out again. They were completely covered in Danse’s blood, enough to make her head swim.

Tying the knot was almost an exercise in futility. It took several tries, the thread sliding through her slippery, blood coated hands before she finally became frustrated enough to wipe them on her jeans, giving her just enough grip knot the thread. Debating on whether to waste the last remaining bit of water from that canister, the sight of all that blood made her decision easier. She used it, attempting to scrub as much of the blood off of him and off her hands as was possible.

She had been concentrating so hard on her task, Margo had momentarily forgotten to check on her patient. Looking up at him, she saw his eyes were closed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Checking his forehead with the back of her hand, she noted he didn’t have a fever. Grateful for the tiny bit of good news, she grabbing the stimpak and gently nudged him. She needed to let him know what she was doing so he wouldn’t jerk as she pushed it in.

“Danse.”

“Mmmmm?”

“I’m going to use the stimpak now. I wanted you to be prepared.”

“Affirmative.”

No hesitation, she jabbed the needle right next to his wound, pushing the plunger down. Now, she could breathe again. Those stimpaks were a field medic’s best friend. He needed more than one, but just that one would go a long way, more so than anything else she could do for him.

Cleaning the area around her, she put everything back in her kit and stuffed that in her bag. She had just one more canister of water for the both of them. The thought if the bottle of whiskey she had stashed away would be a much more welcome sedative though. Another time. There was a patient she needed to keep watch over.


	4. Chapter 4

As he rested, she had time to observe him without him catching onto her. He looked so pale, so lifeless. Not at all the Danse she had come to know, and admire. The man who sometimes irritated her beyond measure. Inside he was a good man, but he let the Brotherhood’s ideals override what he sometimes believed and felt, following them blindly. He gave of himself so freely and yet, held parts of himself back, afraid to enjoy all that life had to offer. Not that he thought so.

Her eyes wandered over his face, noting the collection of scars and bruises, the lines that fanned out from his eyes. She wished they were laugh lines but knew all too well that it was mostly from squinting into the sun.

His laugh was deep, resonating from within, when he let it out but she had only ever heard it once, completely unrestrained, and only as she passed by where he had been talking to some of the young scribes. He was always willing to listen to them, giving them some of his valuable time no matter how busy he was.

Scooting closer, she smiled wistfully at his lips, wanting to know what they would feel like on hers; tender and soft, or hard and demanding. Would those calloused hands move over her body gently or firmly? What would it feel like to have that hard, muscular body pressing down on her own? As a willing participant?

Lost to her visions, she didn’t even realize that her hand reached of its own volition, fingertips lighting on his arm like a butterfly with the softest of touches, caressing down his arms, the warmth of his skin underneath her fingers making the blood pulse wildly in her veins. It didn’t even occur to her to wonder why his skin was so warm, when instead it would most likely be cool after all he’d been through.

She stole a quick look from under her lashes to see if he was still resting. He was, eyes closed, long black lashes resting against the bruised skin under his eyes. He looked so peaceful right now, something she had never witnessed before.

Even in sleep, he was usually tense. Oftentimes, he was fighting his own personal demons, nightmares dragging him from sleep. Right now, his breath was even, unlabored, and she watched the rise and fall of his muscular chest, underneath which beat the heart of a warrior. Could that heart be warm and tender as well?

She was staggered by the intensity of her feelings. They threatened to burst through a dam she had built after seeing Nate shot. This man, this soldier, had barrelled through her defenses and now she was reeling with the knowledge that she cared for him. It frightened her to her core. It also warmed her in ways she hadn’t been for so very long.

Her hand reached up, tracing his lips, her imagination taking flight and in her mind, she saw him kissing her, rising up over her…..she gasped. Like a frightened doe, her eyes widened at the sight of his fingers encircling her wrist, darted back up to meet his eyes. Open, heavy lidded, watching hers, liquid brown pools almost black with desire. He wanted her?

He turned her hand, brought her fingers to meet his lips,kissing each one in turn. She felt her nipples harden, warmth blooming and settling deep inside her. She felt feverish with desire. What was happening to her? This want for him was overtaking her with an urgency she had never felt before, not even for Nate.

Reaching to cup her head with his free hand, he pulled her close, lips closing over hers and she had her answer. Hard and demanding. Prying open her lips with the force of his tongue, he delved inside to tease and to taste. She felt herself drowning in his kiss, in sensations she had never experience.

She moved, straddling his body, her knees loosely clasped around his hips, felt his hardness brush against her core. A large warm hand slid up under her shirt, pushing her bra up, kneading her breast in his hand. His thumb flicked her taut nipple, making her moan into his mouth in pleasure.

Leaning back, she crossed her arms, grabbed her shirt and whisked it over her head, wanting to feel his gaze, his hands, his mouth on her bare skin, no barriers in the way. His hands reached behind her, struggling to undo her bra. Just as she reached to help him, he managed and eased the straps down her shoulders, baring her to his gaze.

One hand on each shoulder, he pulled her down towards him, mouth closing over her breast; sucking, nipping the nipple with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue, before moving to the other side. She arched into him, wanting him closer. Such sweet torture. She wanted more, almost delirious in her passion for him. Her hands moved down the muscles in his arms. So strong, this soldier, now her lover.

His hands left her shoulders, fingertips traveling lightly down her arms; a rough, callused hand moving around to the tender skin of her back, the other one cupping her bottom, pulling her closer as he moved his hips just right, pushing himself up against her. Who was this man, this wild Paladin that traveled next to her every day, so self-disciplined? This was a new side of him...and she reveled in it.

Scooting back just enough to find his belt buckle, her fingers fumbled with it in her haste to get it undone. Grasping the zipper of his pants and sliding it down, she ran a hand inside his briefs, rubbing her hand along the length of him. So exquisite, strength sheathed in warm velvet and so very large. She felt him trembling as her fingers wrapped around his shaft, the pad of her thumb gliding over the moistened tip.

Margo wanted to feel the heat of his skin, those hard planes of muscle against her body, run her fingers through the crisp, dark hair on his chest and follow the trail all the way down. As she reached for the hem of his shirt, ready to pull it up over his head, she heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his muscles contract and she knew that sound. It was one of pain.

Like ice water being poured over her, she remembered his injury. What the hell had come over her? Over them both?

“Danse! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

His hands stayed rested on her thighs, kneading them, his fingers digging in but not painfully. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to focus through the pain. Pain she had accidentally caused him or pain at the sudden stop to the frenzied passion they had just shared. Pulling back, she looked down at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

What she was saw rocked her to her core. It was passion....and frustration as well. Despite the pain, he still didn’t want to stop. It stunned her. Socially awkward as well as an obnoxiously exemplary soldier, he wanted her. Protocol be damned. Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him gently, tenderly. When she stopped, he touched his forward to hers.

“I want you, Margo.” His voice was rough with unfulfilled passion, making her shiver in response. “I don’t want to stop.”

To prove a point, he pulled her head down to his again, those strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. He kissed her so hard it left her breathless, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth, consuming her, tongue warring with hers, trying desperately to assuage a ravenous hunger. A hunger that would have to be denied.

As much as she wanted this, Margo couldn’t go on. She pulled away from that devastating kiss.

“Danse, we can’t.” She angled his face up to hers so he could see his passion mirrored in hers. “I want this as much as you do, but we have to stop. You’ve lost too much blood and you can’t afford to lose more.”

Before he could stop her, she climbed off of him, walking a few feet away to calm herself. Her blood was pumping so hard, all her nerve endings were sensitive and on fire. What she needed was an ice cold shower. Not having that at her disposal, she would have to settle for good, old-fashioned time. She reached down and grabbed her shirt, pulling it on.

Turning back towards him, he was lying prone on the ground again, one arm resting across his eyes. His fatigues were still unzipped, the belt still undone and his shirt pulled up just enough for her to see that nasty, red gash, so stark and ugly. Thankfully, it wasn’t bleeding, though she didn’t wasn’t sure how.

As the fires inside them were banked, she noticed something….or rather the absence of. There was no sound. No cawing of crows, no trees whispering in the wind. No sound at all penetrated the area they were in. It was eerie and she couldn’t stop the shiver from traveling down her back, making her hair stand up on the back of her neck.

Something was wrong about this place but there was no way out of it. They would have to stay here for the night. Putting on a brave face, something she had gotten very good at, Margo set about making a soft bed of pine needles for Danse to lay on. He was going to have to move, but it would be more comfortable than lying on the cold, hard ground.

She started a small fire with some twigs and small branches she found. At least a fire worked here. She had half expected it to go out on her.

Walking over and kneeling beside him, she gently put her hand on his arm. “Danse?”

He moved his arm, looking up at her with those beautiful brown eyes. “Yes?”

“I want you to move near the fire, stay warm. There’s a chill here and I made a bed of pine needles for you to lay on. You’ll be more comfortable.”

He made no effort to move and Margo was starting to get worried. Reaching out to feel his forehead, she heard him whisper, “Please, don’t touch me. I...I just...can’t do this.”

His eyes sought hers, pleading with her. She noticed his eyes were still dilated, as they had been in the heat of those intense moments. Odd, they should be normal now.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what to do for him.

With some struggling and a few quiet moans of pain, he was able to move, laying down on the pine needles, facing away from her. Her decision had been for the best but damn, that had hurt. Now, he apparently wanted nothing to do with her. Trying not to let the tears fall, she sat quietly behind him, determined to watch over him through the night.

She woke with a start, a pain in her neck from the awkward angle she had fallen asleep in. Halfway through the night, she had gotten up to throw more branches on the fire and looked over at Danse to see him sleeping peacefully for once. Before long, she had succumbed exhaustion herself.

Looking at Danse this morning, she saw that his color was better. He was still breathing evenly, so that was a good sign. Taking advantage of the fact that he was still asleep, she silently walked over and rested the back of her hand against his forehead. Not overly warm, as far as she could tell, it was just normal body heat.

Remembering the night before, she felt a flush crawl over her body, thinking of how close she had been to that heat.

No time for that now. It was time to head out. She needed to get Danse back to the Prydwen immediately and have Cade look at that wound. There were no more stimpaks, no more water and she wasn’t sure how far away they were from the museum. It wasn’t worth going back for.

As she went to gently shake him awake, she noticed something odd. She heard wind sighing through the trees, the caws of crows. Sounds all around them, where last night there had been none. Curiously, though not quite as odd, the fog was also gone.

Scoffing at her wild imagination, she shrugged it off. She had just been exceptionally tired last night.

“Danse? Time to wake up.”

Touching his shoulder, she moved back out of the way of swinging arms. At least twice she had woken him out of a rare deep sleep and paid the price for it. She had learned that lesson well.

Groaning, he rolled over onto his back, his eyes opening wide as the stitches pulled. “What happened, soldier?”

He felt groggy and disoriented. The last thing he remembered was the deathclaw at the museum, roaring in rage as it swiped at Margo, knocking her unconscious. Then it came for him. He remembered shooting at it over and over again with his laser rifle. It swiped at him as well and he felt a stinging pain but that hadn’t stopped him. He finally turned it into a pile of glowing ash, falling at Margo’s side.

Everything was fuzzy and disjointed after that.

Looking around, he didn’t recognize the area they were in. It didn’t look like any of the other areas they had walked through and didn’t look like they were near the museum either. He was astonished by the sight of the burgundy, copper and other assorted colorful leaves. Nowhere had he observed beauty in nature such as this. It was otherworldly. As if that was even possible. There was a plausible explanation. He was sure the scribes would be able to figure it out.

“Where are we?”

“It’s called Gallows Hill. You wandered off after you took out that deathclaw. You must have been delirious. I followed you all the way here. Not sure how far this is from the museum.”

She squatted on her heels in front of him, observing him for any signs that seemed out of the ordinary. No alarms were going off in her head. His breathing was good, he wasn’t clammy or pale. His pupils were no longer dilated.

“Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head no. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, chiding herself for not checking the rest of his body for injuries. What if he had a head wound? There was nothing there. Looking him in the eyes, she noticed his cheeks were flushed. Was he feverish or that she was running her hands through his hair. She pulled them back abruptly.

“Just checking for a head wound. Thought it might explain you wandering off like that.”

That explanation seemed to bring him relief. “I think I would remember taking a hit to the head.”

“Not necessarily. Your pupils were dilated last night and it had me worried. Everything seems okay now. Sure you don’t remember last night at all?”

Shaking his head no, he was not about to tell her of his erotic dreams. Even now, they made him feel uncomfortable. Like had had breached a code of conduct and there was no going back. What would she think of him then? Probably request to be reassigned. Better to keep it to himself.

As she reached for the hem of his shirt, he snatched her wrist, stopping her. “Soldier! What is the meaning of this?”

Tilting her head, she looked at him questioningly, “Don’t you remember? I put you back together yesterday. The long ugly gash from the deathclaw?”

Surely she was just making this up. Those images had been so vivid in his mind, he hadn’t noticed any pain. But now that she had brought it up, he felt a sharp, stinging sensation at his side. He realized she wasn’t just making things up to remove his clothes. Everything around him felt strange, wrapped in a haze he couldn’t fight through.

“Fine, look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Challenging her with his eyes, he reached down to grasp the hem of his shirt. Looking down in surprise, he saw that it was stiff with blood. His heart beat harder in his chest. What if she was right? Where did all that time go? How could he not remember it? Hoping last night had just been a crazy dream brought on by the events of the day or just sheer exhaustion, he lifted his shirt and stared in surprise.

The slash was still an ugly crimson against the rest of his skin, black stitches crisscrossing from side to side. Thankfully, it didn’t look infected. Margo had done an excellent job of taking care of him. As he took stock of their current situation, she told him about finding him here, the condition he was in, what she had done. He would forever be grateful for her knowledge and quick thinking. She was also correct that one stimpak would not be enough to heal this.

Feeling like the worst sort of fool, he stumbled through an apology. “I….I didn’t know. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

He looked so adorably awkward and embarrassed. It seemed he was telling the truth; he really didn’t remember last night. She refused to acknowledge the ache in her chest that caused. Pushing everything else aside, it was time to move on.

“We need to get down the hill and signal for a vertibird. Cade needs to look at this.”

“We have no supplies at all?”

“No. I used the water we had, one canister for cleaning your wound, the other for us to drink. There was only that one stimpak, so we need to go now.”

“I don’t understand. Where are the rest of our supplies? We were well stocked when we left.”

“At the museum and I don’t know how far that is. I don’t think we can make it back there. At least not you, in your condition. It would put you at risk of pulling stitches and opening your wound. We’re better off carefully making our way down the hill and calling for a vertibird.”

His eyebrows drew downward in a frown, “You left our supplies behind? That was ill-advised, soldier. Now we’re at the mercy of the wasteland and all it’s dangers! A good soldier is always prepared.”

Margo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I ran after you! You were injured, obviously delirious, walking out into a fog that barely had visibility to the end of your damn nose. You had no idea what you were even doing. I went after you afraid for your life! I didn’t even know then if you _had_ been hurt or how badly it might be.”

Pointedly, she looked down at his side. “Forgive me for running to your aid, Paladin. Next time, I will take that critical moment to stop and grab the necessary supplies while you’re bleeding out--just so I can bury you!”

She turned away from him, incensed at his self-righteous attitude after what she had been through. How dare he throw protocol in her face like that. He could have died! Walking away before she said something she couldn’t take back, she needed to cool down. This man irritated her beyond all measure. Not even a simple thank you.

 


	5. Chapter 5

A while later she thought she had calmed down but looking at him lying there brought their argument back. Her angry strides ate up the ground as she went to clean up the campsite. 

“I’m sorry, Margo. I was out of line. Thank you for everything.”

She continued with her tasks, ignoring him completely. Let him stew in his misery. He deserved it, the ungrateful wretch.

“Margo, please. I deserve your anger. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I just...well, I was being foolish and I just want you to know I’m truly grateful.”

Closing her eyes in defeat, she knew she could never stay mad at him. Not that she hadn’t tried. He was stubborn, a fanatic went it came to the Brotherhood beliefs, always sticking to protocol regardless of the cost. There were times she had seen glimpses of a heart inside his shell, one that was kind and generous. With time, Margo knew he could learn to see things differently from the Brotherhood that he bled for.

“It’s okay, Danse. You’re forgiven.” The imp in her just couldn’t resist, “On one condition.”

She looked behind her to see one eyebrow raised in question, “What’s that?”

With all the seriousness she could muster, “We kiss on it.”

The look on his face was priceless. His eyebrows were almost lost in his hairline and eyes opened so wide, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“A...a kiss? Soldier, that is highly inappropriate. That’s against protocol!” He was so indignant at the very idea it was almost laughable. Maybe she should be insulted instead but she refused to be. 

“C’mon Danse. We’re alone. It’s not like anybody will even see us.” 

Poor guy was blushing from his neck all the way to the roots of his hair. It was so endearing. She went over and kneeled on the ground before him, staring into his eyes. How long before he caved or would he stand by his convictions? She reached out to grasp his warm hand in her own, turning it over and using the fingertips of her other hand to trace the lines in his palm. The memories of the night before returned in full force.

Not giving him the opportunity to pull away, she leaned up, grasped his head with her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. At first, he was stiff and unyielding, but as she continued to kiss him, he began to loosen up. Soon, he was kissing her back. Her tongue twirled with his, and she heard him groan in longing. Last night may have been a dream, but this was not.

Pulling back from the kiss, Margo searched his face. It was flushed but relaxed. He didn’t seem embarrassed right now. His fingers reached up and tenderly caressed her face, before he let his hand fall and put his wall back up. She would hold that kiss close to her heart. Standing up, she gathered her things and turned to help him up.

They managed to walk back down the hill without falling down it head first. Danse’s arm was warm and heavy around her shoulders and she refused to let it go, not caring how embarrassed he was. Whether it was from being close to her or that he was injured and looked weak, she didn’t know and didn’t care. She’d be damned if he was going to undo all her hard work.

Finding a place for him to rest, she took a grenade out and tossed it on the ground. Together, they watched the red smoke spiral up to the sky. Neither of them knowing what to say at this point. It wasn’t long before they heard the distinct chop of the vertibird’s rotors, the dark speck and the whomping sound growing louder as it drew near.

As it landed, Margo noticed it was Rico. “Hey there, Paladin Danse, Knight Dalca. Need a lift?”

Margo loved riding with him. He knew how to pilot a ‘bird the way she like it. Wild and free. Even Danse couldn’t get this Lancer to behave in the sky. However, this ride was going to have to be smooth.

“As a matter of fact Rico, we do. Think you can hop outta there for a sec and help me?”

His eyebrows rose up as she indicated Danse. Saw him wince as he attempted to stand up and rushed over to putting Danse’s arm over his shoulder.

“I can walk just fine, Ruiz.”

“Of course you can, sir. I just don’t want you falling, because then I’d have Knight Dalca here ready to take off my head for dropping you.” 

She grinned in response but looked at Danse as she spoke, “He’s right. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to mess up my beautiful stitching.” 

She saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth and new he was trying hard not to smile. If he wasn’t in so much pain, she would push until he did. Hardly like her to quit so easily, but she gave him a pass this time.

“What the hell happened to you two?”

“Language, Lancer.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“We encountered a particularly large and nasty deathclaw that took exception to our presence.”

“Dam---Uh, wow, that sounds terrifying, sir.” 

Rico helped Danse into the ‘bird. Danse had looked at her with an expression that dared her to help him, at all. Narrowing her eyes at him, she was starting to wonder if he didn’t actually remember what happened last night. It seemed he didn’t even want her to touch him.

“Ma’am. Are you alright?”

Rico was addressing her, studying her face. Maybe it was the cut? Margo hadn’t been able to see it, hadn’t bothered to clean it with the little water they had. She was surprised Danse hadn’t taken her to task on the lack of proper care for herself. She had no idea how bad it was but knew head wounds bled profusely. Hoping it wasn’t too bad, she had just wiped off what blood she could and then focused on Danse. It must have been worse than she thought by Rico’s reaction.

“I’m good, Rico. Thanks. Just get us back in one piece, okay? You know, take it easy?”

She inclined her head towards Danse subtly, so he couldn’t see. Understanding dawned in Rico’s eyes.

“You got it, Knight!”

Both of them climbed into the ‘bird and Rico guided it back to the Prydwen, a smooth ride all the way back. As soon as they docked, Rico jumped down and came to help Danse onto the flight deck.

“I can walk by myself.” He growled at both of them. They backed off and Danse turned to Rico, a glint in his eye. “Lancer, that was an incredibly smooth flight. I trust that will be your regular routine flight going forward?”

Rico opened his mouth, closed it again. “Yes, Paladin.”

Wincing as his stitches pulled, Danse saluted him. ”Very well, Lancer. Ad victoriam.”

“Ad victoriam.”

As Danse carefully walked towards the stairs going inside, Margo and Rico stood together watching him go.

“You know you can fly however you want, Rico. Don’t let the big, bad Paladin deter you.”

Rico looked down at her and winked, “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

Smiling as she caught up to Danse and followed him up the stairs, she hoped he wouldn’t fall backwards. There would be no stopping him from squashing her like a bug. Then again, as memories passed through her mind, it would be one way to have his body on top of hers….again.

Making it inside without any mishaps, they headed towards Sick Bay. Maxson saw them and motioned them to the Command Deck.

“Doesn’t he have anything better to do? I need Cade to take a look at that wound!” Margo grumbled. Maxson could wait...forever, as far as she was concerned.

“Knight, you will use respect when speaking about Elder Maxson.” Danse reprimanded her again on her lack of proper decorum. “If he requests to see us, we go now. Cade can wait, as can I.”

In other words, she should bow in reverence and pay homage to his Highness. As if. She tried reasoning with him.

“Really? You’re about to fall right where you stand! You need to lie down for a couple days at least.”

Looking over at her, he spoke in low tones, “You’re just as ready to fall as I am.”

“I didn’t lose a lot of blood, get stitched up and then...partake in vigorous exercise.”

Blushing to the roots of his hair, she confirmed what she had been beginning to suspect. He did have some idea of what happened. She had almost believed him but Danse was nearly transparent when it came to personal matters. He clearly didn’t want her help because of those memories. She wasn’t going to ignore them and wasn’t about to let him either.

“That will be enough, Knight. We need to report, now. ” His tone brooked no argument. Then again, it usually didn’t...and she usually ignored it. This time, she would let it slide but they weren’t going to stay long. She would make sure of it. 

The minute they walked into the room, Maxson wasted no time. “Paladin Danse, Knight Dalca. What is the status on your mission? The surveillance for potentially valuable technology that would benefit the Brotherhood, I believe it was?”

He looked at Margo, his words directed towards Danse. She realized he hadn’t been fooled at all. He must suspect that she had been doing work for the Minutemen instead. Well, it was partially true. 

Danse opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Maxson’s sudden interruption. His nose wrinkling in disgust. Margo had to admit, they didn’t exactly smell like a bouquet of flowers. Probably closer to brahmin manure.

“Exactly what kind of surveillance was required? Swimming in a brahmin trough? You both look decidedly…..repugnant.” His eyes went to Margo’s head wound, “As well as injured.” 

Margo snorted again, trying her best not to laugh outright. You don’t say. However, he hadn’t realized Danse was worse off than she was. At Danse’s look of reproach, she tried to adopt his serious demeanor. His rigid soldier boy posture was starting to sag a little, though, the longer they stood there. 

“We traveled north to investigate some intel we received about the lighthouse and ran into some of the Children of Atom. They were an exceptionally solid unit with remarkable fire power. We did clear them out, Elder.” 

Realizing he was leaving the best part out, Margo interrupted as she usually did, “And a deathclaw.”

Turning toward her again, he pointedly looked at her wound. “I see. Well, Knight, you may head to Sick Bay to see Cade. Danse can continue to brief me on this mission.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Asshole! “Sir, I respectfully request that Danse be one to receive medical attention. I insist he come some other time to continue. He needs to get to Sick Bay. Now.”

Margo used her best General’s voice and Maxson actually looked at Danse, head to toe. Upon seeing no injury, he asked, “Is this true, Paladin?”

“Sir, it’s really nothing. Just a scratch. I assure you I am perfectly capable of waiting to head to Sick Bay.” 

Not quite convinced after Margo’s vehemence and knowing the Paladin well, he questioned again, “Where were you hit?” 

Not waiting for Danse to deny it again, Margo grabbed the hem of his shirt, careful to lift it up gently, eyeing Maxson the whole time, a smug look on her face. “Right here.”

Maxson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Go now. Danse, we will continue this later.”

Danse grunted in frustration but Margo, satisfied she had gotten her way, turned to look down at her handiwork. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw. The wound was bleeding again, going down his side and soaking into his waistband. 

Later she would use excuses for what happened; she was tired, it had been a long trip, she was weak from loss of blood herself. There hadn’t been time to brace herself and fight her natural reaction. Eyes frozen to the blood as it trickled out of the wound and down his side, she fainted.

Her last thought before she was dragged under was that she would never live this down.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos welcome!


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